


The B Side

by mozbee



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Humour, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25685689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozbee/pseuds/mozbee
Summary: “Okay,” Steve says. He looks at Bucky, at the furrow between his eyes. “We’ll figure this out. Why don’t I call Tony? I mean, between his lab and Friday and—”Bucky’s expression twists and he leans into Steve’s face. “Strawberry fields forever!” he snarls.Steve blinks at him.“Is that a no?”---It's not a question of singing out of tune when Bucky wakes up one morning and can only speak in Beatles' lyrics. Steve tries to piece things together, Tony is no help, and Pepper may be the closest thing to a sympathetic ear he's going to get.Oh, and everyone is plotting something, but this time, Loki isn't in on it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	The B Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neatoburrito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neatoburrito/gifts).



> In terms of canon, this is not. I kind of glossed over/ignored events or changed them to suit my needs.

Steve rolls over, half-awake already when a bony knee digs into his spine. “Fetal position, Buck,” he groans, wiggling away from the offending limb. He rubs his eyes and grins at Bucky’s unintelligible reply and sits up. He presses a quick kiss to Bucky’s temple and hops out of bed to stretch before the window, looking out over the forest that grows behind their cabin. He grabs his running clothes from the dresser and slips out of the room.

Dressed and in the kitchen, Steve chugs a glass of chocolate milk as he chews through a granola bar. He rinses his glass out and crosses to the front door to tug on his running shoes. He steps outside and inhales deeply, the sweet smell of a summer morning a lift to his being, and sets off in a quick jog, turning left to follow the trail in the woods. Flowers burst in colourful blooms at the side of the path, their heady scents enjoyable to him now in a way they weren’t as he grew up, back then more likely to trigger an allergy attack.

Steve pounds down the trail, packed dirt familiar under his Nikes. All around him is the morning warbles of the forest birds, the harsh calls of the blue jays striking over the quieter chirrups of morning doves. He watches a plump grey squirrel dash madly across the path in front of him, sprinting up the trunk of a mighty maple and glaring back at Steve.

He doesn’t come across any more wildlife as he makes his way home and goes out back to the bin where they store birdfeed, scooping out a full pail and filling every birdfeeder. He stands for another minute, relishing in the sounds of nature, and watches a blackbird swoop to land on one of the feed posts but it overshoots and instead hits the ground. Steve waits for it to pop up, but when it doesn’t, he crosses the grass slowly. The bird lurches to its feet as Steve approaches, and he slows down and crouches.

“You all right, little guy?” The bird has brilliant green plumage around its throat. Steve reaches slowly with one hand and the bird hops back, wings flat against its body. Steve considers the bird, the quick rise and fall of its chest, and makes up his mind. “Sit tight for a minute.” He stands and goes to the shed behind the cabin and grabs an empty cardboard box.

The blackbird sits where he left it, and watches him as he throws handfuls of grass and leaves into the box. “It’ll make it feel more homey,” he explains to the bird. He fetches a small bowl from inside the house to fill with water and puts it in a corner of the box, along with a helping of feed.

Steve turns to the blackbird and crouches down. “If you want to just hang out in here, you know, rest a bit—” he shrugs. “This is a good spot.”

He leaves the box on its side, as close as he can put it next to the bird without startling it. He stands slowly.

“It’s yours if you want it.” He turns and makes for the house, and by the time he’s stepping up onto the back porch, the blackbird is hopping into the box.

Steve goes inside pleased, stomach rumbling at the thought of breakfast, but makes for the bathroom first for a shower. Bucky is still lying in bed when he passes on the way to the bathroom, but by the time Steve is toweling his hair dry, the bed is empty and the cabin smells like coffee and frying eggs. He comes to stand next to Bucky at the stove. The radio chatters about massive power outages and Steve turns it down.

“Morning,” he says into the space between Bucky’s shoulders, arms loosely wrapped around his waist. “Toad in the hole?” Steve asks after a minute. “I thought you didn’t like making that since Tony told you about losing his virginity.” Bucky pulls a face.

“I want to hold your hand,” he says, and stops. Steve laughs and holds his hand out.

“I guess you only need one for cooking,” he says. “What?” he asks, seeing Bucky’s minute frown. Bucky shakes his head.

“I believe in yesterday,” he says, and turns to Steve. “Yesterday came suddenly.” The words are familiar, comforting, at odds with the look on Bucky’s face.

“All right,” Steve says, confused. “Are you—”

“Hope you need my love, babe, just like I need you,” Bucky says in a rush. His jaw clenches and he turns from Steve, glares at the stove.

“Buck, what’s going on?” Steve asks. “What are you saying?”

Bucky switches the burner off and looks at Steve. He takes a deep breath, shoulder shifting with the inhale, and Steve braces himself. “There are places I remember—” he stops, grits his teeth, and tries again. “I’ll send all my loving to you.” He slams a fist on the counter. Steve jumps.

“What— is that The Beatles? Are you saying Beatles lyrics?” Bucky nods, a deep frown on his brow. “Why?”

Bucky huffs and gestures chaotically. “Bright are the stars that shine, dark is the sky!” he snaps, and glares at Steve. He raises a brow pointedly. “Life is very short, and there’s no time for fighting and fussing, my friend.” He crosses his arms emphatically.

“You hate the Beatles,” Steve says, because he’s drawing a blank right now. Bucky slaps the back of his head. “Ow! Sorry, right, not the point. Uh, you’re not doing it on purpose?” Bucky rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You were speaking normally last night on the phone. Did something happen when you were on your way back?”

Bucky’s eyes slide away for a moment and he frowns to himself. He taps his temple and shrugs. “Help me get my feet back on the ground.”

“You mean you can’t remember?” Steve feels a heavier stirring of alarm. “Anything?” Bucky holds his hand out flat in front of him and waggles it side to side.

“I sat on the rug, biting my tongue, drinking her wine.”

“A little bit? Did you stop somewhere?” Steve groans at the look on Bucky’s face and has a brainstorm. “Wait.” He grabs his cell phone from where it lay charging on the counter and shoves it at Bucky. “Text it.” Bucky looks marginally relieved as he takes the phone and opens a new message, and texts quickly. He stops and reads his words and scoffs, turning the phone back to Steve, who looks down and reads

_Michelle, my belle, these are words that_

“What?” Steve cries. “Wait,” he says again, and passes Bucky the notepad and pen from the counter. “Write it. Try,” he says imploringly to the doubtful look on Bucky’s face. Bucky sighs and takes the pad and paper and bends over the table. Steve watches him write slowly, his grip on the pen tight. Bucky stops and shakes his head. Steve grabs for the paper and reads

_I get high with a litt_

“Okay,” Steve says. He looks at Bucky, at the furrow between his eyes. “We’ll figure this out. Why don’t I call Maria? Or Tony? I mean, he’s got his lab and Friday and—”

Bucky’s expression twists and he leans into Steve’s face. “Strawberry fields _forever_!” he snarls.

Steve blinks at him.

“Is that a no?”

-

-

-

Steve stares at the bar at the far end of the parking lot. “So, this is where you were?” he asks Bucky, who nods.

“You say you want a revolution—” he cuts himself off with a frustrated huff. Steve squeezes his leg.

“Do you want to come in or wait here?” Bucky shoves open his door in answer, and Steve follows him along the sidewalk to the front doors of the bar. Even this early in the day, the doors are unlocked, and the two of them enter the bar and head to the back, where a woman in a white shirt is restocking shelves with liquor bottles. She turns to face them, and her expression is one of familiarity.

“Hey, Bucky,” she grins at him. Her eyes slide over to Steve and she raises her brow. “Is this Stevie?”

“Steve,” Steve can’t help but correct. He flashes her a smile. “I was hoping you could help us with something, and since you remember Bucky…”

She laughs. “Since I remember him? I have his drink order down to a T, from his first beer to his last. I’m Becky, by the way,” she adds, sticking a hand out. Steve shakes it on instinct, but can’t help the questioning look he sends Bucky’s way.

“Becky. Nice to meet you. I was hoping you could do me a favour and tell me what you remember about Bucky being here last night, who he was with, if you saw anything unusual, that kind of thing.”

Becky laughs. “You mean besides Tony Stark parking his ass in a booth? Half the visitors in this town only know we’re here as an afterthought, then this billionaire comes in.” She gives Steve a calculating look. “I thought you guys were teammates. Or is that only when aliens are trying to explode the planet?”

Steve’s mind spun. Tony had been here, in town, close enough for a visit, and chose to spend his time in a dilapidated bar? With Bucky? “Ah ha, uh, no, we’re— we’re teammates all year round you know, just, punching aliens in the dick—”

Bucky goggles. “Hey Jude??”

Steve coughs and shakes his head. “Uh, what can you tell me about him? Tony, and Bucky, I guess. Were they alone?”

Becky cuts her gaze to Bucky. “Uh, is this okay? I don’t really want to be sucked into a love triangle thing.” Bucky nods and gestures for her to go on.

“Well,” Becky says hesitantly, “there was another guy there. Uh, tall, black hair, he never got a drink so I don’t know eye colour…”

“Clint? Or Bruce?’ Steve asks Bucky, who frowns and shakes his head. Becky gives a low whistle.

“Dang, I didn’t know you were such a player. Good for you, man.”

“Thanks,” Steve says loudly. “We’ll be in touch.” He gestures to Bucky and the two of them leave, sit back down in the car and face each other. “We need to figure out who the third person with you and Tony was. Also, you were with Tony?”

Bucky looks straight ahead and shrugs one shoulder. “What would you do if I sang out of tune?” He sighs minutely and casts a dark look downward, as if he can shame his mouth into doing what he wants. Steve sighs.

“I feel like Tony is our best bet, especially since you were with him. He’ll have security footage and Friday and everything to help us figure this out.”

-

-

-

It’s a four-hour drive to the New York facility that Tony calls home. Steve switches on the satellite radio once they swing onto the interstate and hides a grin when he selects channel sixty-four. Bucky turns from where he’s looking out the window to glare at Steve.

“What?” Steve asks. “I thought you’d like knowing all the words.” Bucky jabs at the dial and the radio shuts off. “Spoilsport,” Steve mutters. Instead he scrolls through the Bluetooth menu and calls Tony, who answers on the first ring.

_“Super trooper, lights are gonna blind me!”_

“Tony?” Steve says.

 _“Must be funny in a rich man’s world—”_ there’s a distinct struggle and then Pepper’s voice sounds over the line.

 _“Steve! How are you? I’m sorry about Tony. He’s not supposed to answer the phone.”_ In the background Steve can hear Tony loudly, _if I had a little money._

“Hey Pepper, is Tony only speaking in song lyrics?”

Pepper groans. _“ABBA, and he won’t or can’t stop, I honestly don’t know with him.”_

Steve glances at Bucky. “If it’s the same thing as Bucky, then it’s that he can’t.”

 _“Bucky is speaking in ABBA lyrics too?”_ Pepper’s voice is tight, like she’s holding back a laugh.

“Not quite. Say hi, Buck.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I should be sleeping like a log,” he says. Pepper scoffs.

“ _Oh sure, you get nonstop Beatles chatter, I get upbeat Swedish rock,”_ she mutters. _“I don’t know what they did last night but Tony can’t tell me.”_

“What about Friday? She was, uh, with him, right? In his watch or phone or however—”

Pepper sighs. _“It got her, too. Not song lyrics, though.”_

 _“Don’t touch Turbo Boost. Something tells me you shouldn’t touch Turbo Boost,”_ Friday’s pleasantly accented voice rings out.

 _“Please tell me you’re on the way here,”_ Pepper says to Steve. _“KITT and Sven were very quick to get on my last nerve.”_

“We’ll be there in a couple hours,” Steve tells her. The call ends, and he looks at Bucky. “What the hell happened that you, Tony, _and_ Friday were hit?”

Bucky thinks for a minute, then puts his hands to his forehead and bends three fingers down, so he has claws against his forehead. “Take a sad song and make it better,” he says dramatically, frowning darkly. Steve glances between him and the road.

“Uh, is that—?” Bucky gnashes his teeth and Steve snorts. “I don’t get it. Is that an animal, or what?” He cuts smoothly around a transport truck and glances back at Bucky who is stomping his foot on the floor, giving Steve a pointed look.

“We can work it out,” he says, eyes narrow, and it sounds like a threat. He stomps his foot once more for good measure. Steve sighs.

“We’ll just cool our jets on it for now, all right? We’ll be able to figure something out when we get to the facility.”

-

-

-

The front door swings open to reveal a beaming Tony. “Knowing me, knowing you!” he cries, and grabs Steve and pulls him into the foyer. “Can you hear the drums—” he spins an expectant hand out at Bucky, urging the other man on.

Bucky gives him an unimpressed look. He slaps away Tony’s reaching finger and glares. “Penny Lane,” he bites out, and Tony lets loose a bark of laughter.

“Mamma mia, here we go again,” Tony backs into the foyer, waves the two of them on after him, “my, my, how could I resist you?” They follow him into the elevator and it spits them out in the basement, the hallway to the lab gleaming in front of them.

“I saw him explode. You saw him explode,” Friday declares from Tony’s watch. Tony taps the screen without looking and leads the way to the lab.

“The winner takes it all,” he says conversationally as they stride down the hall. He shoots finger guns at a man in a white suit passing them and cheers, “Voulez-vous!” The lab doors swish open and Pepper comes out, makes a beeline for Tony and yanks him after her.

“Sorry, Paul,” she calls to the bemused man watching Tony go. “Tough day at the office.” Steve and Bucky follow them into the lab where Pepper pushes Tony to sit at a bench. “The conference call was bad enough this morning, now you want everyone here to know you’ve officially lost it?”

Tony’s eyes go wide in an imitation of innocence. “Let me tell you now, my love is strong enough to last when things are tough.” He waggles his brows at Pepper. “Friday night and the lights are low.”

“Tony actually was part of a conference call? For business?” Steve shrugs when Pepper turns her look on him. “To be fair, you used to always want him to do that.”

“Yes, but not when his vocabulary is limited to the ABBA discography, and he’s the one who initiates it simply to irritate the members of the board.” She frowns back at Tony. “As if they need any more reason to think he’s mentally unhinged.” She sighs and rubs her temples. “Anyway. How are you two? Any symptoms other than the Fab Four speak?”

Bucky shakes his head. “You don’t know how lucky you are, boy.” He flushes slightly as Tony cackles. Pepper snaps her fingers at Tony.

“I’m going to get Friday to take a scan, see if there’s anything funny that could explain this that we can’t see or you can’t feel. Is that all right?” At Bucky’s nod, Pepper calls out.

“Friday, I need a full biometric scan of Bucky Barnes. Display when finished.”

“Yes, Michael.”

Pepper suddenly swats Tony’s hand away. “I said _no_ ,” she grits out as something small hits the floor. Curious, Steve bends to pick up what turns out to be a nametag, _Michael Knight_ printed on it. He catches Tony’s eye and refuses to share in the grin he’s sending Steve’s way. Pepper wears high heels and kicks pretty hard.

Scan complete, a glowing holograph of Bucky floats in the middle of the room, and a similar one pops up, labelled Stark, T. Steve, Bucky, and Pepper all step closer, taking in the physically unchanged scans of both affected men.

“Thank you for the music, the songs I’m singing,” Tony says in a singsong voice from where he’s bent over a worktable littered with parts and tools. He turns to face them and waves the holograms away. “Waterloo, couldn’t escape if I wanted to,” he shrugs at them.

“So whatever caused this, whoever caused this, it’s not affecting them physically,” Steve says, running a thumb over his bottom lip. “It’s all in their head?”

Pepper makes a face. “Whatever it is, it’s left no trace of itself. I know Tony was at a bar called Rosa’s last night, to meet Bucky—” she cuts off and bites her lip, casting a quick glance at Steve.

“For what?” Steve presses. He looks at Bucky and Tony, the two of them wearing similar expressions; shifty, and a tad guilty. “Why do I get the feeling everyone knows something I don’t?” He narrows his eyes at Tony. “What were you doing all the way up there?”

Tony points to himself. “Fernando?” He shoots Bucky a look and quickly averts his gaze. “Half past twelve,” he says, and gives Steve a crooked look. Steve sighs and turns to Pepper.

“What were they meeting there for? If I know that, maybe I can figure out who the third person they met was.” Pepper frowns and glances at Tony.

“I didn’t know there was anyone else there. The bar doesn’t have any kind of security cameras,” she adds to Steve, “and Friday was offline.”

“Bucky said—er, _mimed_ , I guess, the other person.” Steve repeats the claw fingers, the teeth gnashing, the foot stomping. Tony looks mildly impressed and gives Bucky a thumbs-up, but Pepper just stares blankly. “Yeah, I have no clue, either,” Steve tells her. “Hey,” he says, “can Tony text or write anything other than lyrics?”

Pepper pulls a face. “Should I show you the company wide email he sent this morning?”

Steve scrubs his hands over his face. “At least their symptoms are identical,” he offers. “Hopefully, how one of them is affected will be true for the other. No curveballs.”

“Is there anything either of you can use to give us a hint about who else was with you?” Pepper asks Tony and Bucky. The two of them exchange a look, and Tony casts about the room when Bucky suddenly steps forward and grabs a hammer off the worktable. Tony snaps his fingers and nods at him.

“You know what to do,” he says.

Bucky turns to Steve and Pepper and waves the hammer at them. They stare back at him. Tony whistles and once Bucky is looking at him, thrusts his fist in the air. Bucky nods and turns back, and then holds the hammer aloft, striking a dramatic pose.

Pepper gets it first. “Thor?” she asks. “Was it Thor that was with you?”

“No,” Steve realizes, remembering Becky’s words. “Not Thor.” Suddenly, Bucky’s clawed fingers on his forehead make sense. “Loki.”

“Got a good reason,” Bucky says at the same time as Tony says, “Where are those happy days?”

“Loki?” Pepper repeats, a frown on her brow. “Why would he be there? I didn’t know he was on Earth.”

“Where’s Thor right now? I haven’t heard from him in a while. Is he with Jane?”

Pepper nods, pulling her phone out. “I talked to Jane a week or so ago, she’s working in Oregon and last I knew, Thor was with her.” She holds her phone out, and the lab is quiet except for the line ringing. It connects after a few seconds.

_“Hello?”_

“Jane. How are you?”

 _“Oh, hey Pepper,”_ Jane says, the smile evident in her voice. _“I’m fine, up to my eyeballs in papers, but that’s nothing new,”_ she laughs. _“How are you?”_

“Fine, for the most part. Tony and Bucky are having some issues, though, and we think—”

“If you see the wonder of a fairytale!’ Tony cuts in, and Bucky gives him the same slap on the back of his head that he had Steve earlier that morning.

“Get back, Jojo.”

Jane sounds confused. _“Pepper?”_

“Sorry, Jane. I need to ask you something. Does Thor know where Loki is?” The silence that follows stretches long enough for Pepper to prod, “Jane?”

Jane sighs. _“Has he done something? Pepper, I swear, Thor promised me, and I believed him, but I shouldn’t have, I know what Loki is like—”_

 _“Jane,”_ Thor’s rumbling voice speaks up, _“let me. Fair Pepper!”_ he booms. _“Why do you ask after my brother?”_

“Thor,” Pepper says mildly, but Steve sees the twitch in her eye, “is Loki on Earth?”

 _“What’s he done?”_ Thor asks after a moment, sombre. _“I swear, any wrongs he has committed, I will right.”_

“Well, apparently he met with Tony and Bucky at a bar last night,” Pepper replies. “I don’t know anything else, because neither Tony nor Bucky can tell me what happened.”

Thor sounds alarmed. _“What grievances has he caused? I will fix what I can.”_

“Thor,” Steve says, “Bucky and Tony are stuck speaking in song lyrics. They can’t tell us anything about why or how this happened. All we know is they were with Loki last night.”

Thor bursts out laughing. _“Is that the extent of it?”_

Pepper and Steve exchange looks. “You sound like you have experience with this,” Steve says. Thor chuckles.

_“It is a prank he has played on myself and the others, long past. It is harmless, if misguided, fun.”_

“Can you get him to reverse it?” Pepper asks. Thor sighs.

 _“Where Loki used to listen to me, now he turns a deaf ear. And,”_ Thor is hesitant, _“he was not himself last night.”_

“What does that mean?” Steve asks. He ignores the slap fight between Bucky and Tony, turning more to face Pepper. There’s the sound of muttering and then Thor yelps and Jane’s voice fills the line.

_“Loki ate two pounds of canna butter.”_

Tony shrieks with laughter while Bucky glowers. “Canna butter?” Steve repeats. “Is that—”

 _“Weed butter,”_ Jane sighs. _“He found it yesterday and had it for dinner. I didn’t know until I found the wrapping. It’s legal here!”_ she defends as an afterthought. _“But either way, he ate it and then disappeared.”_

“And turned up almost three thousand miles away in New York,” Steve muses. “Bucky and Tony met at a bar last night, Loki was there too and I’m assuming that’s when he laid the curse or spell or whatever on them.”

 _“Oh!”_ Jane says excitedly. _“And did anything else happen?”_

Steve notices that the room is suddenly filled with people who won’t meet his gaze. “Not that we know of,” he replies. “Why, is there something in particular you were expecting to happen?”

 _“No,”_ Jane says too quickly for Steve to believe her. He chooses to ignore that for the moment.

“Hey, Thor,” he calls, and his teammate is back on the line. “How long does this spell last?”

 _“It was often an evening jaunt, but to be fair, that was on Asgardians,”_ Thor mused. _“I imagine for mortals, it may last longer.”_

“Napoleon did surrender?” Tony asks. He rolls his eyes when he’s met with blank looks. “They passed me by,” he mutters, sitting back with crossed arms.

Steve nods. “Okay, so we just let it resolve itself.”

 _“I fear that is the best I can offer,”_ Thor says apologetically. _“Although I can set out on a noble quest to find him and bring him to you, and see if he can end it.”_

“No,” Pepper says quickly. “No quests on Midgard, remember? Not after what happened last time.”

There is a heavy silence as each of them harken back to Thor’s first and only self-appointed quest on Earth, and the way the Vatican crumbled six times an hour on every news station in the world, the replay as horrifying as it was captivating.

 _“Then perhaps just call after a day or two if it has not resolved itself,”_ Thor says, managing to sound a bit sheepish. They sign off with a promise to talk again the next day and a darkly whispered _she’s so heavy._

Pepper narrows her eyes at Bucky and he stares back, eyes wide. “You’re lucky those are lyrics—"

Friday interrupts. “When you’re one-of-a-kind, companionship does not compute.”

Steve has a second to exchange a blank look with Pepper before the lights above them turn red and a klaxon wails.

“Don’t go sharing your devotion!” Tony chirps brightly, and he opens a display of the grounds.

“Octopus’s garden,” Bucky growls. Steve sets his teeth against the sight of the DoomBots circling the facility, unleashing a barrage of red bolts of energy.

Pepper taps the screen of her watch and nods at Steve. “Everyone’s heading underground and the outer defenses are online.”

“Well, I’m not one to sit back and let the AIs have all the fun,” Steve says. He looks to Tony. “Got any toys I can play with?”

Tony smirks back. “Yes, I’ve been broken-hearted.”

-

-

-

It’s not that DoomBots are a particularly robust foe, it’s more that they arrive in droves and threaten to suffocate with their sheer volume. Steve has KO’ed his eleventh one with a borrowed palm cannon when suddenly he’s divebombed by a baker’s dozen, and he allows himself a hearty curse through the comm.

He’s blasting and spinning and fighting, the landscape in a whirl, when a heavy heat scorches the back of his neck before he throws himself flat. He flips from his stomach to his back and three DoomBots stand over him, a high-pitching whirring in his ears as they fire up their weapons, and he kicks the legs out from under one but the others are about to fire and then—

“Norwegian _wood_!” Bucky slams into the earth in front of Steve, and the two ‘bots are decapitated, even as Tony howls with laughter over the comm. Bucky turns from the downed enemy and tugs Steve to his feet, frowning at the blood running down his arm. “You know you twist so fine?” he asks.

Steve chuckles. “A compliment in the middle of a battlefield, never thought I’d see the day.” He shoves Bucky away from him as a barrage of energy bolts spit on the ground around them. He bends and snatches a fallen satellite dish and whips it through the air. The resounding clank when it unerringly meets its target is satisfying.

“In a matter of hours I will know everything there is to know about that banana-headed bovine!” Friday announces over the comm.

“Sky is clear, and I’m not picking up anything incoming. Looks like that was the extent of it,” Pepper translates.

“Well what was the point of such a small scale assault?” Steve asks, surveying the damage around him. There were a few scorch marks on the side of the compound, but the most damage was in the pile of DoomBots in various phases of short circuiting and electrical fires. Tony drops in front of them, carrying a metal head and frowning.

“My destination makes it worth the while,” Tony says grimly once he’s popped open his faceplate, holding out the head.

“New tech?” Steve asks, peering at the yawning hole where the head used to be attached to a neck. Tony nods.

“In our yellow submarine,” Bucky says, sounding annoyed.

“Somewhere in the crowd there’s you,” Tony shoots back. They glare at each other, though Steve suspects it’s more out of habit than actually understanding the other.

“A little higher, a little lower, stop,” Friday pipes up. Steve sighs inwardly.

“Let’s just get this cleaned up, and then maybe we can sit and have a drink. In silence,” he adds for the benefit of his headache.

Tony waggles a finger. “No more ace to play.”

Bucky grabs Steve’s hand and tugs him toward the non-melting entrance to the facility. “Here I stand, head in hand,” he says to Steve conspiratorially.

For the sake of his headache, Steve nods like he understands what Bucky just said.

-

-

-

They leave shortly after, when it becomes apparent Tony is not going to shut up until he’s gone through ABBA’s entire repertoire twice. Pepper tells them she doesn’t blame them, she would leave if it was an option but ‘someone needs to make sure he can still show his face in public after all this.’

Steve was not expecting to come home to a Norse god sleeping in his backyard with a cardboard box over his head, and apparently neither was Bucky.

“Lady Madonna?’ Bucky asks, frowning at the prone figure stretched out behind the cabin. Steve tenses, wishing he had his shield. No matter Thor’s assurances, he was always expecting the worst from Loki.

Loki, who stirs and sits up, the box on his head facing Steve and Bucky before the god tugs it off. “Oh,” he says, looking between the two of them. “Can I have some water?”

So it was that the three of them are in the cabin minutes later. Loki stands before the picture window, guzzling down his second five-gallon jug of water.

“This is quite refreshing,” he declares as he set the empty jug on the floor. “I appreciate the generosity.”

“Well, now it’s your turn to be generous. I want some answers,” Steve tells him pointedly. “Bucky and Tony can only speak in song lyrics, and all signs point to you as the cause.” He frowns. “And you were a blackbird this morning.”

“Yes, I’ve found in my time on Earth that blackbirds are a much more common sight than the winged form I would normally take on.” Loki frowns at the two of them. “Dragons are really taught as a myth?”

Bucky and Steve exchange looks.

“Help me if you can, I’m feeling down,” Bucky says slowly.

“I don’t even want to know,” Steve replies. He jerks his chin at Loki. “All right, spill. Why did you target Bucky and Tony?” 

Loki paces behind the couch. “I had some… trouble last night,” he says carefully. “I’ve since come to learn the most accurate phrase is ‘tripping balls’.” He pauses in his pacing and faces Steve and Bucky. “I did not intend to trip on these balls, nor to make it your problem.”

“You got high and, what, bewitched Bucky to only speak in Beatles lyrics? Why?”

Loki shrugs. “It was an old favourite of mine, from my youth: to make someone speak their guilty pleasures for all to hear. It often led to embarrassing revelations, something I once took delight in.” He bites his lip, frowning. “I had music on my mind at the height of my inebriation, thanks to a casted pod that Jane was listening to.”

“A casted pod?” Steve frowns. Beside him, Bucky rolls his eyes and shakes his head, dropping to sit in an armchair. “What is that?”

“Oh,” Loki says, looking pleased to impart knowledge, “from what I gather, two or more humans sit together in a pod and discuss any number of subjects.”

“Like a pod of peas?” Steve asks, confused. Loki spreads his hands in a helpless gesture.

“I did not inquire further, for Jane’s answers began to make less and less sense. And then I was overcome with the urge to fly, so I shifted into my preferred avian form and winged through the night. It was not my smartest decision,” he adds. “There was a mishap with a power station.”

“And somehow you ended up in the same bar Bucky and Tony were in.”

“Ah yes, that,” Loki says. “Stark has owed me a drink for three years, and I decided last night to be the best time to collect.” Loki frowns. “I found him, and you,” he acknowledges Bucky, “and instead of being confrontational as I would expect, Stark was forthcoming in his invitation to join you.”

“It’s been a hard day’s night,” Bucky explains to Steve. Steve puts two and two together.

“Tony was already sauced,” he deduces. Loki looks up with renewed interest.

“Oh, no Captain, I can assure you he was free of any sauce. He did appear to be inebriated, and in fact nearly came to tears talking about the engagement—” Loki cuts off and Steve turns, both of their attention caught by Bucky slashing a hand across his throat, glaring daggers at Loki.

“You mean his and Pepper’s?” Steve asks. Loki nods quickly.

“Indeed. Anyway, I was “stoned off my ass” and it seemed like a good idea to sit with Stark. One thing led to another, humourous topics of conversation came up, and I left. I don’t think,” Loki adds, “that I meant to cast the spell. I blame it on the substance I ingested.”

“The weed butter.”

“It was delicious,” Loki says apologetically. Steve sighs and shakes his head.

“Look, Loki, I appreciate you telling us the truth about what happened. Now, Thor said it doesn’t last very long; is that true?”

“I would have thought it to have worn off by now,” Loki replies. “But it is true I am still rather ignorant about the physiology of humans, and, as I said, I was higher than the Rocky mountains at the time, but,” he closes his eyes and nods after a moment, “I believe it will burn out soon.”

Steve exchanges a look with Bucky. “You’ve been hanging around with Jane for a while, huh.”

Loki shrugs. “Seven of the last ten days, yes. I found Oregon to be fascinating to discover.”  
  
“And the lingo, too,” Steve mutters. Bucky snorts.

“When I was younger, so much younger than today,” Bucky starts. Before he can say more, Loki has straightened to his full height.

“Not for Thor’s sake, but my own,” he says, and he holds a hand out, palm flat, and belches loudly.

Bucky makes a face while Steve coughs. “Christ Loki, what did you eat?”

Loki glowers. “That was Elvish, you simpleton. It is a guttural language, and the base for many of my castings.”

“That was nothing like Tolkien’s Elvish,” Bucky says, and Steve nods.

“Wait,” Steve says, staring at Bucky. He grins. “Say something else.”

“Loki’s a reefer head,” Bucky replies, and he shares Steve’s grin. “Hell shit damn son of a mother loving slugburger hot fried toddy on a marsupial plain sonuvabitch Doom!”

The two of them are laughing while Loki looks on with a mild frown. “I believe I’m still baked,” he says. “Do you mind if I go sleep in your box again?”

-

-

-

“So wait, you’ve been meeting with Tony? For how long? And why?” Steve squints at Bucky. “You can’t stand each other.”

Bucky shrugs. “A few months ago, he reached out. Said he wanted to clear some things up.” He glances away, seeming to weigh his words carefully. “You and Tony are friends. Him and I… aren’t. He said we can’t live like this if we’re both going to be in your life, and he—” Bucky whispers the next bit—“he forgave me.”

“That— wow,” Steve breathes, sitting back. He remembers, in painful clarity, the void between himself and Tony, the betrayal in Tony’s eyes when Steve stood with Bucky.

 _“A lifetime of memories with a_ murderer _,” Tony snarled. He levelled a finger at Steve. “You chose your house. Now live in it.”_

Seven months, three weeks, two days passed before Steve heard something from Tony, and then it was out of necessity, the insane space faring titan T-minus days from Earth. Radio communication was all they had, and flat call signs amid the carnage, and then Bucky saved Pepper, just a quick yank on the back of her suit before she stepped into an open crater spewing burning smoke, fathomless, her eyes glazed over under the influence of the mage at Thanos’ side.

After, as they took stock of the damage across the earth, to themselves, Tony crossed to Steve and said for Bucky to hear, “This doesn’t make up for anything.” Bucky had stood, his left arm mangled behind recognition, and said, “It wasn’t meant to.”

Three weeks, four days later, and Shuri was on the doorstep of their cabin in the woods, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She’d taken in the clunky prosthetic Bucky wore, high-tech but not up to par, and shaken her head. “He was not kidding when he said a tree limb.”

“Who?” Steve had asked, as she opened the bag and laid a gleaming vibranium arm on their coffee table.

“Stark. Now come, let us get you back in the twenty-second century.” She’d held an encouraging hand to Bucky, and he drew near, brows furrowed.

“Twenty-first century, you mean?” Steve had asked. Shuri laughed.

“That is our age, yes. But this—” she lovingly patted the arm— “is truly a century ahead.”

After Bucky was back to crushing soda cans to dust between two fingers, it was another month before an email came from Pepper, inviting the team to the facility to catch up. Steve had read the message with trepidation until he got to the post-script, _I hope you’ll both come._

Now, thirteen months, five days since the barbecue that boasted three roasted pigs, two of which were claimed by Thor, to Jane’s slight embarrassment (“you don’t need to pick your teeth with the hooves!”), Steve is finding out that the unsurmountable has been… mounted?

Bucky nods. “It was more than I deserved.”

“Buck—”

Bucky holds a hand up and Steve stops. “I know what you’re going to say, just like you know what I’ll say back, so let’s not.” Bucky faces him. “Tony is a better man than I could ever be, and I’m glad that you at least had him.”

“I need you both,” Steve says, taking Bucky’s hand. “But if I had to choose—”

“You won’t,” Bucky replies. “Not again. That’s something we’ve agreed on.”

“So, what, you’ve been meeting for beers and bonding?” Steve grins. Bucky groans and slumps back against the couch.

“It started off with video calls.” Bucky frowns suddenly. “If he ever tells you we have a smart microwave and you just have to press 8675309 to connect to his phone, he’s full of shit. Anyway, it was just once in a while, then one day I was out riding and he was suddenly above me asking if I had ever had churros, and then we started doing things together. It was weird, but I really wanted it to work. I know—” he pauses and glances down—“I know what a good friend he was to you. And once I stopped being suspicious, I could see him being my friend, too.”

Steve nods and they sit in comfortable silence. “So who braids whose hair? Cause neither of you have—” he’s pushed into the couch cushion and Bucky climbs on top of him, one hand pressed over Steve’s mouth. He slobbers all over the palm and Bucky yanks it back, mock disgust on his face. “You can’t hurt me,” Steve says hurriedly, “your friend Tony would be sad.”

Bucky heaves a great sigh and slumps forward, his forehead pressing into the hollow at Steve’s throat. “He promised me we’d tag team you some day, said he has a lot of “ammunition” to— what?” He pulls back and looks at Steve, choking on air.

“Tag team me? I mean, wow, that’s a whole new level of—”

“Not like that, you dirty old man—”

“Well you said you started _doing things together_ so maybe I should—”

Bucky cuts him off with a kiss, swallowing Steve’s laughter and they melt into the couch, the demigod sprawled in their backyard the furthest thing from their minds. Bucky pulls back and presses a finger to Steve’s lips.

“I’m sorry I kept it from you. I was just afraid I would fuck it up, he’d hate me again and then I’d have gotten your hopes up for nothing.”

Steve shakes his head, hands settling in the small of Bucky’s back. “Don’t be sorry. I actually feel lighter, knowing that. It is something that’s always been on my mind.” He studies Bucky, pushing a strand of hair away from his dark eyes. “How do you feel about it?”

“I’m just glad you’ll never be put in a position where you have to choose between your friend and your… me.”

“Well you are my me,” Steve teases. He leans forward and gives Bucky a quick kiss. “For the record though, I will always choose you. I don’t care the circumstance. You’re Bucky,” he grins. “When I found you again—” Steve shakes his head, his throat tightening. “I swore I’d never lose you. And not even I can break a promise to Captain America.”

“I love you,” Bucky tells him, “more than you’ll ever know. When I got away, and you found me, and when I was actually _me_ again, and you were there, being Steve Rogers, my pipsqueak hotheaded best friend, it was…” he trails off. “It was more than coming home. It was waking up to something I should have known all along. There is no James Buchanan Barnes without Steven Grant Rogers.”

“Buck,” Steve says, touched. He reaches out but Bucky abruptly stands and backs away a foot from the couch, then drops to one knee. He looks up at Steve, and is suddenly holding a small velvet box. “Buck?”

Bucky grins up at him. “So why don’t we make it official? Steve Rogers, my lifelong, punk ass friend, will you marry me?”

A little-known fact about the super soldier program: one of the abilities is blink-free prolonged staring, and if Doc Erskine was here right now, he would be impressed with how long Steve’s eyeballs didn’t selfishly demand a respite from their wide-open state.

“What?” Steve finally blurts. He looks down, at the silver band gleaming at him from its bed. “That’s a wedding ring.”

“Engagement,” Bucky says, grinning. He takes it out of the box and holds it in his palm. “I promise, it’s not some souped-up gizmo with GPS tracking or laser beams. Tony tried to upsell me but…” he shrugs.

Steve gapes. “That’s an engagement ring.”

“Yes, often used to symbolize the upcoming marital vows of a couple in a romantic relationship.” Bucky is still kneeling, still smiling, the same eyes gleaming at him that did eighty, ninety years ago, but it still felt like yesterday.

Sometimes Steve would take in too much at once, looking around and seeing everything that was New and Different in glaring contrast to how it _should be_. It was hard to live in New York City, too many things the same, a block in Brooklyn caught in 1940, a diner from 1927, but the people so noticeably different. He’d look at the crowds in Times Square, the taxis, the stupid gum on the sidewalk— and he was twelve years old, darting behind police horses to catch up to Bucky, even as he sidestepped cell phone wielding tourists, and there had always been a billboard on Myrtle and Cypress, but the old wooden board advertising shoe polish was now a neon monstrosity flashing pictures of surfboards and beer cans.

It was Bucky to suggest the move north. Steve quickly found peace in the anonymous forest at the edge of a small town. Mother Nature held the same grace that she had last century, and the wildlife was familiar, and Bucky was there, holding Steve in the past and present, both his roots and reaching branches.

“Steve?” He comes back to himself with a shake and looks down at Bucky. “I’ve heard it’s customary to say yes or no.” Bucky doesn’t sound worried, or anxious, but his mouth is drawn tight, a smile that will slip as soon as he stops thinking about it.

“Hell yes,” Steve says warmly, and he leans down and kisses Bucky with everything he has, threading his fingers through his hair and pouring all the love and light from within to Bucky, trying to say with feeling what he can’t with words. Because this? This was right. This was inevitable. There never could be anyone else meant for him the way Bucky was.

They break apart, and Steve tugs Bucky up to sit next to him on the couch. “Did everyone know you were thinking about this?”

“Yes,” Bucky says, an arm around Steve’s shoulder. “Because when I told Tony I wanted to…marry you, he fainted.”

A chuckle bursts from Steve before he can help it. “He fainted? Why?”

Bucky shrugs but he’s trying not to grin. “I mean, he’s a middle-aged man, Steve. He was pretty surprised, unless I misinterpreted what he meant when he said ‘what the holy fuck’ right before he passed out. Friday called Pepper, who came running with Thor and Jane, so I told them what I said so they wouldn’t think he’d had a heart attack or something.”

It’s only because Steve knows Tony is all right that he allows himself to laugh as loud as he does. “Tony Stark passed out, just from words. I don’t think I’ll let him live that down.”

“Oh, no, he actually did have a heart attack,” Bucky says, “but it was unrelated. Something about his pacemaker or something.”

“Arc reactor?” Steve asks, frowning.

Bucky nods. “Just freak timing, I guess. Anyway,” he waves a hand dismissively, “you should let me put this on you,” he’s still holding the ring, and he takes Steve’s left hand, and as the ring bumps over his knuckles Steve shivers, then Bucky says, “and let me take these off you.” His hands roam over Steve’s body, tugging his shirt out from where it’s tucked in his pants, a warm hand on his thigh and creeping north.

“Okay,” Steve says a little breathlessly, and they stand and manage to stay upright until they’re in their bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

-

-

-

Loki sits up in the damp grass, feeling logy. He tugs the cardboard box off his head, and licks at the seed stuck to the side of his face. He stands and stretches, shakes out his hands and a few bursts of green energy shoot from his fingertips and sink into the earth. Small blossoms appear immediately, though his attention is caught by a song emanating from the cabin in front of him. He stills and listens carefully.

_Say you don’t need no diamond rings_

_And I’ll be satisfied_

Loki shakes his head and shuts his eyes, takes a breath and swells to forty times his size. Snapping out his leathery wings, he turns a great eye on the cabin below him, now in greys and blacks.

He looks at the new blooms on the lawn below, already growing. “Myth indeed,” he scoffs, a flame licking at the back of his throat. He bends and leaps, flexing his wings and ascending rapidly. This time he’ll stay above the power stations.

-

-

-

The door is thrown wide and a beaming Tony greets them. His eyes lock on the ring around Steve’s left finger, and he blinks up at them.

“You asked,” he accuses Bucky, then looks at Steve. “You said yes. You asked,” point to Bucky, “and you said yes.” Bright eyes on Steve. “That’s not fair.”

“What?” Steve asks.

“I was going to pretend I was still ABBA-fied, I had a rousing rendition of Fernando ready, but now I am—” Tony pauses, frowning as he contemplates –“flabbergasted. My gasts have been flabbered. Pepper? It happened again,” he explains as his fiancé steps beside him, looking fondly exasperated.

“Tony, move out of the way so your guests can actually enter. Steve,” Pepper’s grin dazzles as she takes in his new jewellery, “congratulations.” She sends a smile Bucky’s way, and Steve drowns in affection at the proud grin Bucky gives her, all while tightening his hold on Steve’s right hand as they enter the house.

Thor appears suddenly, holding a barrel on one shoulder. He draws up comically short when he sees Steve and Bucky, and his face lights up. “Captain! Winter Man! I am pleased to see the both of you looking so healthy and hale!”

“It’s good to see you too, Thor,” Steve grins. Thor abruptly shoves the barrel on his shoulder at Tony, who steps out of reach so it instead _thunks_ to the floor.

“What am I, Donkey Kong?”

Pepper takes Tony by the hand and tugs, waving at the others as she leads Tony deeper into the house, where the party appears to be in full swing. Thor has leaned in close, a contrite expression on his usually beaming face.

“I must apologize for my brother, something I have far too much experience with. I do hope he caused no grievous or lasting harm.”

“I think we bounced back okay,” Steve replies, and exaggeratedly reaches to scratch the side of his nose with his left ring finger. Thor takes notice of the band, and his gaze drops to where their hands are intertwined. He gasps so hugely, it steals some of the air from Steve’s lungs.

He’s pretty sure Thor tied his tongue in a knot and set it on fire with the ensuing exclamations. He would later realize it was well-wishes in Asgardian. It ends with the two of them in a bone-crushing hug before Thor steps away and slaps their cheeks.

“A true cap to the evening!” he declares. He lifts the barrel as easily as a baseball and nods at them. “Jane will be quite pleased it all came to fruition.” He stalks off into the bowels of the house, singing all the way.

Steve grins after Thor and makes to join the party when he realizes Bucky is rooted to the spot. He looks at him and gives his hand a tug. “What’s up?”

Bucky has a small frown on his face but not of displeasure, more like he’s trying to puzzle something out.

“You keep showing everyone…” he trails off and looks down at the ring. Steve follows his gaze and grins.

“What? It’s exciting, and they’re our friends.”

“You showed the woman at the gas station.”

“I was paying for the gas, I can’t help it if she noticed—”

“You fist bumped a firefighter and he gave us an escort to the freeway.”

“Which is why we beat traffic, so…”

Bucky shakes his head with a small grin. “You just like showing it off.” His voice is uncertain, even as his grin is confident. Steve smiles and leans in, speaking directly in his ear.

“It means I’m yours, and you’re mine, and I want _everyone_ ,” Bucky shivers as Steve’s breath ghosts over his skin, “to know.” They kiss, one moment of intimacy, and when Steve pulls back, Bucky’s eyes are so full of light and love that Steve nearly suggests a quick exit, thinking of their cabin for two, the deep quiet of the woods.

The thought is shattered with a sudden burst of confetti overhead; Steve looks up and watches as the room is filled with shimmering flakes of red, blue and white. The opening notes of The Star-Spangled Banner play, then the lights dim and Tony’s voice echoes through the house.

“If every one of my beloved guests would be so kind as to retreat to the south lawn, there is a thrilling event about to take place.”

The guests mill about until Tony sighs heavily and adds, “the door behind the bar leads to the _south_ lawn,” and confusion disappears and drinks are topped up during the mass exodus outdoors. Steve shrugs at Bucky and they follow the crowd, stopping for a beer apiece.

As they walk out back, familiar faces crowd around them, beaming and congratulating them. Jane swoops in with Darcy on her tail, cheeks flushed as she giggles out well-wishes and Darcy prods Steve in the ribs and mentions a pre-nup, this isn’t the _fifties_ anymore, sheesh. Rhodey raises his drink and smiles at them as Tony yammers in his ear, and Wanda sends up little red hearts when he catches her eye, the magic wafting above the crowd and earning applause from the gathered crowd, with the exception of the host.

“No!” Tony puffs out his cheeks and blows at the sparkly hearts, waves his hands at them. “Disperse, go _on,_ you’re stealing my thunder.”

It’s then that Steve notices the stage, elaborate by his standards but modest by Tony’s, set up by the edge of the lawn, the immense lake beyond shimmering with the stage lights.

“What do you think he’s got planned with that?” Steve asks Bucky. They’re standing at the edge of the crowd, Bucky scanning the peripheral by long-ingrained habit, so it’s not surprising when he notices first and stiffens. Steve feels it and he frowns and glances around, but the crowd has thickened as more partygoers get through the line at the bar and he doesn’t see whatever there is to be seen.

“Buck?”

Microphone feedbacks squeals and hands are clapped over ears, groans mingling with the staticky voice.

“—son of a _bitch_ , I told—” Tony pauses as the feedback stops and he realizes he can be heard. “Ah, excellent. So! What a night. All of us, gathered here, for innocuous reasons—” his tone is deceptively casual, and Steve’s not buying it for a minute—“except that’s a lie!”

A banner unfurls behind him suddenly, taking up the entirety of the stage wall. Steve feels his face heat as he realizes it’s a thirty-foot montage of pictures of him and Bucky, old and new. He picks out a photo from 1936, him and Bucky in front of their school, and where the hell had Tony dug that up from, and photos of them in their uniforms, bright-eyed and young, hopeful, happy.

“Oh, see, this is a favourite of mine,” Tony says, staring up at the ten-foot photos behind him. “See this? And before anyone asks, _no,_ of course it isn’t a still from _Austin Powers_ and the iconic cryogenic unfreezing process with Steve’s head badly photoshopped on the spy while Bucky’s the beleaguered scientist.”

“That’s actually exactly what it is,” Darcy announces from where she’s suddenly behind the two of them. She holds up her glass of something pink and fizzing and winks sloppily. “But don’t worry, Bucky,” she turns to him and tries for a reassuring smile, “if he strip dances for the FemBots, he’s just doing it to save you from the sharks with laser beams.” She presses her lips to each of their foreheads and stays disconcertingly close. “Loyalty,” she whispers, then nods and walks off.

“I would just like,” Tony says loudly into the mic, glaring at Steve and Bucky and their blatant Not Paying Attention, “to wish Captain America, the one and only Steve Rogers, the best of joy and luck as he weds his very own subordinate, even though he totally stole the idea from me but Pepper says that can’t be copyrighted—” he glares again –“but either way, let’s get the festivities really going so these commandos can get home and make each other howl.”

Steve flushes at the cheers of the crowd. Bucky meets every gaze head-on, eyes narrowed in challenge. Most people find they suddenly have something else to look at _right this second_ and for once, Steve is glad for Tony’s obsession with being the centre of attention.

“Without further ado, I present the entertainment for the evening,” Tony grins. “What do you get when you cross half of the Fab Four with the full might of Sweden’s polyester best?” He’s met with silence but isn’t discouraged.

“You get one helluva engagement party!” Tony crows, then he’s stepping to the side, and the crowd cheers wildly as the entirety of ABBA climbs the stage, wearing headsets and two of them carrying guitars. “And don’t forget—”

If Steve thought the crowd had gone wild before, now he worries about heart attacks and convulsions when two older men walk onstage, one settling behind a drum kit, the other carrying a guitar and stopping to greet ABBA.

Steve stares, then looks at Bucky, whose mouth is wide open at the sight of Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney.

“If I get to strip for FemBots—” and he’ll have to look that up later— “then I won’t stop you from hopping on the tour bus.”

Bucky’s cheeks colour and he gives Steve a good-natured shove. He’s saved from answering as Tony bounds up to them over the sound of instruments warming up.

“So,” he drawls, looking between the two of them, “comedic genius or harrowing recall?”

Steve shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous for dragging these people out of retirement.”

Tony snaps his fingers at him. “Hey, they begged me, _begged_ me, to leave them alone. But the Stark charm works every time.”

“Don’t lie, Tony,” Pepper chides as she sidles up beside him. She grins at Steve and Bucky. “I know it looks weird, but I heard their rehearsal and—” she winks. “You’ll love it.”

The crowd chatters excitedly as the musicians warm up.

“So,” Steve says to Bucky, “that’s Ringo Starr right there, fifty feet away.”

Bucky nods. “Yep.”

“The wonder coif himself, just right there behind the big round drum.”

“The bass drum,” Bucky says, and he’s giving Steve a weird look. Steve nods.

“Of course.” They stand quietly for a moment. “He’s looking good for a senior citizen. Probably has all his teeth, too. Benefit of being rich, I guess.”

“Well two of those could be said about you,” Bucky points out.

“True,” Steve allows. “If only I had the hair—” he reaches up and tugs at his short strands.

“You’ve got enough for a handful,” Bucky says lowly, stepping close. Steve is again thinking of a moment or a hundred alone when the bands start up, the sharp staccato of a cymbal breaking over the crowd.

“Lovely to be here tonight,” Paul McCartney says into his mic, as his fingers begin to pick their way over his guitar.

“We’d like to start with something special,” Agnetha Faltskog beams, a tambourine tapping against her thigh. “This is called ‘All You Need is All Your Love on Me’.”

The music starts in earnest, and Steve can’t say he’s surprised that Pepper is right, as usual. He loves it.

-

-

-

It’s when the party is winding down, a fleet of cars appearing and whisking away all the guests and their plus ones, that Tony finds Steve and Bucky, sitting inside and talking to Ringo. He’s beaming as he approaches.

“So,” he drawls, looking inordinately pleased with himself, “a little music, a little light, a whole lotta love. And you know what they say about love, right Ringo?”

Ringo stands. “You signed the contract stating there would be no further conversation between the two of us, and that’s the first time I liked a clause in a contract I didn’t write myself.” He nods at Steve and Bucky, and walks out.

“Bit of a mouthful, rhyming scheme is all off,” Tony muses. He snaps his fingers at the two of them. “Hey, one more thing.” He grabs two long boxes from the table behind him and drops one in front of each of them.

“Go on, see what else I’ve blessed you with,” he says impatiently.

Bucky’s is open first, and he raises a brow. “A… robe?”

“Monogrammed,” Tony nods, chest out. “Steve, see yours yet?”

Steve lifts the heavy cloth from the box, a rich maroon with gold cuffs. He lifts the collar over the back and frowns. “‘Norwegian wood’?”

Tony cackles. “I thought it would be a good call sign for you, you know, your fiancé just perfected it, I think it really speaks to— what are you doing?”

Steve stands, laying the robe on the couch. “You have five seconds,” he tells Tony, who stares at him then glances for Pepper, who has walked up behind him.

“Pep, tell him he’s not going to—”

“Four seconds, Tony,” Pepper says, looking at her watch. “Three, two…”

Tony looks at Steve, stretching his legs, and takes off deeper into the house, Steve on his heels. They round a corner and a loud squawk echoes back.

“Coffee, Bucky?” Pepper offers pleasantly, as though it’s not _her_ fiance’s howls of pain coming from around the corner.

“Love some,” Bucky nods, and he follows her down the hall to the kitchen, where Steve has Tony in a headlock at the breakfast bar.

“All right, all right, I’ll change it,” Tony gasps. “It’ll be ‘Come Together’ before you know it—"

“I know the words to that,” Bucky says, sitting next to Steve. Steve grins at him.

“I think we know more than the words.”

“Oh my god this is cause of the toad in the hole story, isn’t it?” Tony moans. “I don’t want to know the details of your sex life.”

Steve releases Tony and takes Bucky’s hand in his. “And you won’t because that stays between a husband and husband.”

“Tony,” Pepper says warningly when she sees him rise up, ready to instigate more trouble, “let it be.”

Miraculously, he does.

**Author's Note:**

> For a cool sentient being.


End file.
